


vignettes of these stars

by dabs_to_exo



Category: Star Trek
Genre: 5+1, 5+1 Things, Drunk Spock, Fluff, Happy Ending, I Tried, I dunno how to tag this, M/M, Oblivious Jim, Oblivious Spock, Sick Spock, Smart Jim, both of the kiddos are oblivious, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabs_to_exo/pseuds/dabs_to_exo
Summary: The alternate working title is 5 little moments that made Spock fall for Kirk and the 1 time he did something about it. (but the official title is a bit more dramatic, don't you think?)anyways I have a weakness for 5+1 fics and I have been wanting to do something Spirky so uh,,, here we go?If you see mistakes please let me know but be gentle I triedThese will mostly be short and maybe ooc bc it is really hard to write I'M SORRY but please enjoy aaa





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY (late) VALENTINE'S DAY!! I couldn’t post for some reason yesterday it was weird!! I hope everyone had a wonderful day
> 
> ONWARD, TO *Old man voice* CHAPTER ONE, THE BRIDE  
> (kidding!! but seriously please enjoy this kinda uneventful fic. I'm sure it will be better when it is completed maybe? Who knows.)

Spock always heard the captain singing in their shared bathroom. In the shower, while he brushed his teeth, when he washed his face.  
Jim wasn't terribly talented at it, his voice missing the highest and deepest notes, but he wasn't tone-deaf and he very much sang with passion.

Usually if Spock and him were together in the bathroom, however, it was silent. Silence would fill the small room as Spock attempted to calmly wash his face while Jim brushed his teeth.  
Was he embarrassed to sing in my presence? Does he worry I might judge him? Does he find himself uncomfortable around me? Spock found himself asking himself these questions every time as he watched Kirk from the corner of his eyes smile widely at his reflection as he brushed his front teeth.  
He still bounced like he was singing though, resting his weight on alternate feet back and forth in rhythm to a beat Spock didn't even try to identify.

One evening Spock heard Jim enter their bathroom and start the water in his sink. Spock was working on some pastime research at his bedside and didn't pay too much mind to his captain until he realized that he wasn't singing.   
Curious, he peeked a head into the bathroom.  
Kirk was brushing his teeth and had a pair of earbuds in, something Spock hadn't seen the captain use before. They were attached to a small device and the audio was coming from the buds so loudly Spock could easily identify it as music, but could not ascertain what kind.  
Kirk moved his head and his hips together in an energetic, clunky, and unattractive dance that made Spock almost smile to himself. He brushed his teeth erratically and energetically, back and forth. He mouthed the lyrics to his song with fervor, wrinkling his nose and squeezing his eyes shut at a particularly dramatic note, pulling his brush out of his mouth to use as a microphone.  
If only the crew were to witness this, Spock mused. But he preferred having this version of Jim to himself, and probably to Bones, who had lived with Jim in the academy and likely saw something similar. There was no way to describe Spock’s reaction without inferring an emotional adjective which was both pleasant and strange for Spock.  
He was about to pull away from the door frame and shut the door, leaving as silently as he had come in, but Jim saw him out of the corner of his eye and froze.  
His face flushed, and he straightened his posture from where he stopped in his dance, frantically pausing the music.  
Spock felt his face turn green a little himself. “My apologies, captain, at this intrusion.”  
“No, no uh, it’s fine, Spock.”  
“Acknowledged, captain.” Spock replied as coolly as he could manage, pulling from the door frame.  
Spock turned before Jim could reply “it’s Jim,” leaving the captain standing dumbfounded and blushing at the sink, white toothpaste foam at the side of his mouth.   
A visual stimulant Spock would hold dear to him for quite some time.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock gets a fever and Kirk is cute that's it you don't even have to read this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI SO MY NAME IS MARSHALL AND I HAVE NEVER HAD A FEVER IN MY LIFE THANKS I hope it is not terribly obvious but who knows maybe it is  
> anyways this one is really simple and short like the last one but I am pretty sure my next one will be a bit longer (and might be updated at a later time) anyways... please enjoy this mess and honestly thank you for reading

Spock, as a Vulcan, was unable to (or refused to, at least) hate anything really. But his human part told him this: he definitely disliked being sick. It was an illogical sentiment of course as illness is statistically unavoidable in the long run, but he did. It made him feel weak.  
For the most part, Spock had expertly avoided getting sick during the Enterprise’s mission, even dodging the mass stomach virus that had caused a lot of cleanup afterwards.   
Of course, instead (for some reason) something hit him and him alone months after the stomach virus: a fever.  
It was one morning after departing from a surprisingly peaceful diplomatic journey. Spock’s shift on the bridge would start in only a few minutes but he felt something was wrong within himself. It started as a headache.   
On the bridge, listening to an avid conversation between Sulu and Chekov, an odd heat pressed itself on Spock. He felt his whole body flush as heat waves crashed over him.   
“Spock? Are you alright?” Jim’s? voice seemed far away as Spock stumbled slightly backwards.

The next thing Spock was conscious of, was Kirk calling McCoy. His voice sounded worried. Why was his captain so worried?  
After that, it was Jim pulling Spock’s limp body up, his arms wrapped around Spock’s torso.

Finally, Spock woke up, and recognized he was in medbay. His head felt too large, and his entire body felt firey.   
McCoy was standing to his left, and noticed Spock was awake.  
He whispered, “You’ve got a virus, Spock, nothing big but you did get a fever with it and for some reason that kicked your ass. Been out all night’n day since yesterday mornin’. Nothing to worry about though it should be gone by tomorrow.”  
“Why are we whispering, Doctor?” Spock asked in a quiet tone.   
McCoy pointed to the right of Spock, where Jim was sitting in a chair, head cradled in his arms which were resting folded on the corner of Spock’s bed.  
“He came back as soon as his shift ended, and refused to leave you until you woke up. Damn kid,” McCoy said, smiling affectionately at the sleeping captain. “I can wake him up if you want,”  
“No!” Spock whispered, almost too quickly. “He needs his sleep.” 

So McCoy left them, after offering that if Spock needed help he just needed to yell, heading off to start his morning in his office. Spock spent some time looking at the captain and sorting through his thoughts. He was attempting to recollect himself from this heat haze that had taken him over. He was slipping in and out of sleep, feeling vexed from his lacking his usual sharpness. He shouldn't need this much sleep, but he consoled himself with the fact that he was ill and it was the logical direction.  
Spock was almost startled when apparently in his sleep, Jim had reached a hand over and was holding Spock’s. It was a shock to Spock, the unexpected contact somehow grounding him. Jim’s hand was cool, different from his usual warm touch, probably because of how heated Spock’s own skin was by comparison.  
If there wasn't a fever already, Spock probably would have blushed. The gesture, especially made while he was asleep was, in Jim’s own terms, cute.  
Spock noted it was the longest they had maintained physical contact, before he felt himself pulled back into sleep. He didn't want to, he wanted to stay awake and live in this moment longer but when he woke up, he had faith his captain would still be there with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONTO LUCKY NUMBER THREE!!! this time I know what I am doing its gonna be Kirk and one of my favorite riddles of all time! Stay tuned


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is frustrated but not in the way you might think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI so I gave ol' Jimbo Einstein's riddle and had him solve it the same way I did except it took me waaay longer than it should anyways if you haven't solved it yourself yet I didn't put the answer in the fic so if you wanna give it a whirl (https://udel.edu/~os/riddle.html) Tell me how you solved it if you did it differently?  
> anyhoo thanks for being patient if there is anyone who is keeping up with this!! this one is a tiiiny bit longer than the ones before it. hope you like it!  
> No idea what I am doing with the next chapter so it might take a while longer sorry kiddos...

It didn't seem obvious, but Jim Kirk sure as hell loved to learn and even use his head, much to Bones’ disbelief.   
In his free time, Jim would sneak down to the science labs and bother the ensigns, forever asking questions. He would often seek out Spock to ask him a question he was sure the Vulcan would know the answer to.  
It pleased Spock to no end to see his captain be the physical embodiment of curiosity. Spock watched Kirk’s eyes light up as Spock would explain the answer to Kirk’s initial question, follow up questions forming on his lips before Spock could take a breath.   
It also became a ritual between the pair where Spock would find complex riddles for Jim, and pass them along to his captain while mentally calculating how long it would take him to solve it. It started one day when Kirk was terribly bored, and since then their little tradition was born.

“This is one of your old Earth riddles, captain,” Spock said to Jim, who was leaning forward in his captain's seat in anticipation.  
“Einstein’s riddle,” Spock said, “Is formed in this way- There are 5 houses painted five different colors. In each house lives a person from a different nationality. These five owners drink a certain beverage, smoke cigars, and keep a common Earth pet. No owners have the same pet, smoke the same brand of cigar nor do they drink the same beverage. You are to find out who owns the goldfish. Now here is what you are given...”  
It was early morning, and for the rest of the day Jim had been distracted, mentally crunching the facts he was given.

As Spock was preparing for bed later that night, there was a buzz for his door. Upon opening it, he found his captain, looking quite frazzled.  
“You are aware we have a connected bathroom, captain.” Spock said, stepping back to allow Jim in.  
“I know,” he said, “but I also know you have a thing about privacy.” He strode in and sat in Spock’s desk chair when offered.  
Spock couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow.  
“A ‘thing’ for-”  
“You know what I mean. Aren't you going to ask what I’m doing here?” He smiled up at Spock, who stood, rather rigidly for being in his own quarters.  
“I was planning on doing so. Why are you here, captain?”  
Jim’s face fell.  
“This. Stupid. Riddle. I can't sort it out! But I can't give up. I haven’t yet, and I don't plan on starting now! ...But could you give me a hint? A hint to how you solved this?” His left leg bounced rapidly in frustration.   
“I believe it is best with the considerable length of the riddle that you would physically write out the problem.”

Jim perked up, and basically ran out of Spock’s room. Since Spock was still dressed in his uniform, he decided it was acceptable to follow Jim.  
Jim ran down to the place where he knew there was always a whiteboard ready for him.  
There were only a few scattered crew members left this late in the shift in the science labs, but they all looked up when Jim burst in. He strode straight over to a clear whiteboard and picked up a black pen. He mumbled the riddle to himself as he wrote it on the board, sometimes asking Spock to verify that a part was right.  
He circled the key conditions that were given to him with a red pen, and stepped back, reviewing for a moment. He stepped forward again, and wrote down six separate lists: house number, house color, nationality, smoke, drink, pet.  
He first set in attempting his listing method. It went on for 20 minutes, with Spock watching quietly.   
‘No… no. You are a visual man but this will become confusing for you to follow,’ Spock thought to himself, holding his tongue per Kirk’s request to avoid too many hints.  
Frustrated at his progress, Jim erased the board by pulling his sleeve over his hand and rubbing furiously at the board.  
Spock couldn’t help but feel… amused at his captain’s passion. 

That was one part of Kirk that always mystified Spock. His uncanny ability to, despite Spock’s practices, make him feel. The never ending question that broke Spock’s algorithms.   
The thought came into the back of Spock’s mind as he felt his lips quirk up watching Kirk’s eyebrows knit together. He pushed the thought away, seeing Kirk’s tongue poke from the corner of his mouth in concentration.  
Kirk drew a large 7x6 board. In the top row, he left the first box blank, and filled the rest in this according fashion: House 1, House 2, House 3, and so on. He then started each row with a different title: color, nationality, smoke, pet, drink.

It took Kirk approximately 47 minutes. When he had finished and the board he had drawn was full, he wrote the answer very large on the board with a satisfied flourish.  
“Am I right, or am I right?” Kirk asked, turning to Spock, his eyes tired but his voice cocky. He spread his hands wide in welcome of Spock's answer.  
Spock remained silent, and raised an eyebrow.  
Doubt crept into Jim’s face, and he started looking crestfallen.  
Silence filled the room as even the other officers stopped their work and looked at Spock in anticipation.  
Finally, Spock spoke.  
“...Yes.”  
Kirk sighed with relief, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He put both hands up in two fists, and cried repeatedly, “YES! YES! YES!” The onlookers clapped and whistled jovially at the captain’s success.  
Jim tossed his pen to the ground in victory and reached for Spock. Before the Vulcan could react, he was wrapped in a fierce hug, swaying side to side, almost picking Spock up. Jim smelled very clean, his body practically radiated heat, and his arms felt very secure, all traits Spock noted very quickly. Spock was about to reach his arms up to reciprocate the sentiment but that was when Jim pulled back very suddenly.  
“Sorry, uh, I was excited.” Kirk said, clearing his throat, cheeks turning red.  
“There is nothing to apologize for. Congratulations, captain. You surpassed my expectations, as always.”  
Jim looked genuinely surprised, color still in his cheeks. “Thank you Spock.”


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Protective Kirk is the best Kirk thanks
> 
> also thank you for patience! ! this was my longest chapter yet and I'm not really big on writing so this was a struggle!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO IM BAD AT THINKING UP WHAT MISSION THEY GO ON THAT REQUIRES OUTSIDE HELP FROM THE PLIOTS BUT IDK IMAGINE WHATEVER YOU WANT I GUESS  
> also this was both hard but also the most fun chapter to write I love making up characters   
> please enjoy as always my friends
> 
> I have no idea what the next chapter will be so that WILL take some extra time I am soooorryyyyy

It was a joint mission between Starfleet and a rogue band of ‘peacekeepers’ in order to better complete their next scheduled mission. The group called themselves Pliots, and knew the terrain and species of their destination as if it were their own, and were eager to assist. They were human or humanoid at least, which made their temporary assimilation into the Enterprise’s ranks smoother.  
It was a small group of 7, and they were obviously like family to one another, something Kirk deeply admired.  
For the most part, socially, the Pliots were friendly, telling wild and boastful stories of their ventures to Enterprise crew members in the mess hall.  
Individually, there was Brendan Thackley, who was a dark man who stood almost seven feet tall. He would not state his origin or if he was truly human, and it became a game for crew members to speculate where he was from. He had short cropped and curly dark hair, and his eyes were a light brown. He seemed to be the leader of the group, and was the kindest. He would often wander the bridge offering his help to anyone whenever he felt restless.  
Aireanna Rowell seemed to be Brendan’s second in command, a thick motherly woman with wild hair who was loud and quite funny, annoying Bones to no end by sitting in med bay and telling jokes to his nurses. She had a habit of rapidly tapping her index finger on any surface she could reach if she sat for too long, a nervous energy that never died down.  
Youssef Mui’io was the smallest of the group, thin and wiry, he served as an engineer. He had spiky sandy blond hair that stuck up in every direction possible. He kept to himself for the most part, and had an oddly charming effect on most of the crew. His eyes were daunting, both white, lacking both irises and pupils, but his sight was just fine. His dry humor mixed well with Scotty, and was never endingly pleased to hear facts about the Enterprise, bonding the two men almost instantly.   
Youssef’s brother, Vembre, was his opposite, strong, tall, and most of all: loud. He had his brother’s hair and eyes, but a scraggly beard and a robotic hand. He had a playful boyish nature with a dash of shit-eating grin thrown in.  
Laiwa M. was shaped like a barrel, and heavily scarred. His back was twisted and his arms had chunks missing from them. He was the oldest, and had many suspenseful stories to tell the wide eyed crew. He spoke like a pirate of old, loud and crude, and often misspoke, saying something unintentionally offensive and forgetting he had said it. It shut most off from wanting to speak to him until Aireanna apologized for him and explained that he had no ill intent.   
The youngest, Beo, had no last name, and was completely mute, for reasons the group respectfully declined to express. He always wore a smile on his face and looked startlingly similar to a teen Kirk, if teen Kirk had long red hair kept in a braid and was missing the top half of an ear. He communicated with a series of gestures and nudges to Brendan, who would then relay the information he got. He was strongest of the group despite his build, and instantly got a following with lovestruck crew members.   
Finally, there was Darian McCandry. She was a sharp eyed woman, who was quiet, but most likely for the “if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all” sort of reason. Her arms were always left bare in her uniforms, covered in a plethora of electric blue tattoos. She commanded every room she walked into, and was very much interested in the science deck in her spare time. There was some form of tension between Spock and Darian, but the two remained civil.  
Jim noted it was very refreshing to have a new addition to their crew, no matter how temporary. 

Their intended mission was successful, and the Pliots had performed admirably, displaying their equal parts strength and cunning. Before the Pliots could leave in the morning, Jim called for a celebration of their performance.   
Rec room 2 was cleared, its contents hurriedly shoved into rec rooms 1 and 3. Scotty pulled out his favorite scotch, and even Uhura snuck in her brand gin.   
Laiwa declined to drink, as he proudly exclaimed he had been seventeen years sober. The group gathered in the rec room clapped, and the older man almost blushed.   
It took no time for a party to start, once Chekov set some music up. Aireanna was seen pulling Nurse Chapel in close as they danced together laughing and whispering to one another, and Uhura was entranced by Brendan teaching her how he and Beo communicated.   
It took a lot of convincing, but Spock did show up to the celebration. When Chekov invited him, he believed his time were better served with his usual post-mission reflection, but when Jim asked him, just twenty minutes before it would begin, he found himself unable to say no.

The party was going well, Spock mostly shadowing Jim through the crowd. He even found himself almost having a good time, until-  
“If there were a living breathing form of the word ‘pretentious’ it would be that pointy eared Vulcan,” Darian scoffed to Vembre, who neither agreed nor refuted her statement.   
Drink had loosened her tongue, and also made her impervious to Spock and Kirk’s presence behind her. Jim turned sharply to the voice as Spock felt himself blanch and stiffen.   
It was nowhere akin to the Vulcan children who had tormented Spock, but Spock had foolishly allowed himself to become accustomed to his crew, who had grown to never think of anything but admiration and respect when it came to their first officer. The pure venom in Darian’s voice made his side knot in an uncanny way, and turn his gaze to the floor, clearing his face and mind.  
“Besides”, Darian continued, “He is snippy, dull, and terribly lacking. In everything. Looks, intelligence, you name it Vembre. I don't know how the captain stands that ice cube with a stick up his-”  
With every word, Jim’s eyebrows sank down further, and he looked between Darian’s back and Spock’s falsely blank expression.   
With every word, Spock sank further into himself, feeling every word like a stab into his gut. He could feel his eyes stinging and tried to drown out Darian’s voice.  
“Hey.” Jim said finally, and he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around harshly. His face was pink and twisted in anger. His other hand was clenched in a fist kept as if glued to his side. His jaw was set, and his body tense, ready for action.  
Spock looked up at him in surprise.  
Darian was wide eyed in shock, and stuttured, “C-captain.”   
Darian, although unstoppable and vicious in battle, was all bark and little bite when it came to an angry Captain James Tiberius Kirk.  
His grip on her shoulder was tight, and he shook her occasionally for emphasis as he said, “I appreciate your right in expressing your opinion, but if I ever- _ever_ hear you talk about my first officer in that manner again, you will not only be escorted from my ship, I will do it _personally_.”  
It was Darian’s turn to blanch, then pull out of Jim’s grasp to move away in fear of the sheer emotion radiating off of the captain.  
Spock, as Jim turned to him, felt with shame that his eyes were still wet. Wordlessly, Jim pulled him from the party to the empty rec room 3, shutting the door after them. The lights weren't on and it made Spock feel a lot more secure in the darkness.  
“Thank you captain,” Spock said, trying to find his voice.  
A hand reached up and clasped Spock’s arm. A deep exhale through the nose.Kirk was still terribly angry. “Don't thank me. No one has the right to talk about you like that especially when none of it was true. You know that right?”  
“It is all subjective captain, she was being honest about her perception of reality,” Spock said, shuddering breath and all, trying to regain composure.  
“Well, in my ‘subjective’ opinion, her opinion was wrong and didn't mean shit. In my ‘subjective’ opinion, you are-”   
Spock could tell something in Kirk told him to stop.  
The hand on Spock’s arm pulled away.  
Jim took a breath in to continue, when the door to the rec room reopened. There Brendan stood, the quiet of Kirk and Spock’s moment interrupted.  
“Captain, I was informed of Darian’s remarks and I am genuinely sorry. And to you Commander Spock. She should have known better.” The staggeringly tall man looked humble, his head almost touching the top of the door frame.   
“I accept your apology, Brendan.” Spock replied, proud of how calm he sounded.  
Brendan bowed his head, and left, closing the door again.  
“If I were you I would have chewed him out to no end. How noble of you Spock,” Jim’s chuckling voice sounded very close to Spock’s ear.  
It was no more than a whisper in the quiet dark.  
“Thank you, Jim.”

The subject of who or what exactly Spock was in Jim’s subjective opinion never came back, not that night or any after, but the way Jim had said it haunted Spock. The way Jim was so ready to fight for Spock haunted him too.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a mission, and when Jim gets seriously hurt, Spock has a moment of realization. (oh ya, warning about graphicish death. Not Jim's obviously but you guys,,, Spock wasnt just gonna knock these guys out for what they did to Jim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HOLY SHIT THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE  
> its been a wild week for me...  
> I dont have or deal with emotions a lot so its been hard to write this and it will be even harder for the last chapter but!! we made it lads!! now onto +1!!! please enjoy this and I'm sorry again for the wait!  
> I wanna say thank you to all the lovely comments they are the best and keep me actually writing this messy fic  
> also '----' instead of "----" means it was spoken through the translator!

"You bring him back’n once piece, ya hear me?”  
Bones made his typical pre-mission demand to Spock, jabbing his index finger into Spock’s chest. The only reason Spock allowed the doctor to do so was because he was cognizant of Bones’ ‘subtext’.  
“Bring him back” meant he cared, and that he expected Spock to protect Jim.  
Which was something Spock would have done, with or without Bones’ demand. He found himself 47.8% more likely to risk his own life for Jim than for anyone else, which he simply wrote off under the fact that Jim was his captain after all.

“Please tell me the coast is clear,” Jim said.

 

Jim, Spock, and Sulu were on diplomatic mission: escort Poimarr, an alien princess (of sorts) from one hemisphere to another. There was justifiable suspicion that there would be an attempt upon her life before she took the throne, and the Enterprise volunteered protection on behalf of the Federation.  
The planet was strange, one side wintry and mostly empty where the team's journey had started, the other hot, humid, and very crowded. Cityscapes seemed to go on for days, whirlwinds of the planet's inhabitants and the smell of their food and the yells of pedestrians distracting Jim.  
The cities were strange too, as they kept everything in impossible layers. The bottommost layer was for a system of light trains that looked like giant blinding white worms. The next was completely for street vendors so that they wouldn't clutter the topsoil. The uppermost level was pedestrian and recreational, before reaching topsoil where their massive skyscrapers and roads resided.  
Jim wasn't supposed to say this, but he thought it: the primary species there were strange, too. Named the Tch-machs, their heads were akin to a dog's, square and long nosed, and their fur was similar too. They reminded Jim of the ancient Egyptian god Anubis, where beneath the neck their bodies became more humanoid, except their bodies were still covered in short fur and their feet still resembled the hind legs of a dog. They commonly wore bright oranges and deep greens, except for the business workers, who wore dark reds and royal navies.  
The princess was a real chattermouth. She wore plain and loose beige robes that tightened at her neck, arms, and legs, with a hood that covered her pointy ears. She was sent by her father to a study exile in the wintry side of the planet with her mother. She was tall, almost as tall as Jim, and had dark fur all over. She seemed regal in her own way until about 15 minutes into their trek, where she dropped all pretenses and spoke as freely as she wished.

“I should be out there with you,” Uhura had complained before the group left. Bones had taken her temporarily off from active duty because of a recent injury that had resulted in near death, but like Jim, that didn't really deter her.  
“It will be fine, Uhura. We still have that two-way translator gadget that, although it is nowhere close to your skill, will do a sufficient job.” Sulu said, nudging her elbow.  
“Call me when the battery dies,” Uhura said, finally smiling.

‘I miss my prime before-me,’ Poimarr said, their first night at camp.  
The translator’s feminine voice mixed weirdly with the series of high whines and deep ‘boofs’ Poimarr gave out.  
Sulu shot Jim a look, and mouthed, “prime before-me?”  
Jim spoke back through the translator.  
‘What is a prime before-me?’  
Poimarr looked up from the ground she was staring at. The snow beneath her was melting, since she was sitting so close to the bonfire that Sulu built.  
‘I do not know your equivalent. It is the female in my family who.’ If a dog could blush, Jim would have sworn he was seeing it now. ‘The female who created me.’  
‘Ohhh. To us, that is a mom.’  
“Before-me. I believe I understand. The woman who was before her in her place of the family. Prime suggests she is the mother, and not an aunt.” Spock said, watching Poimarr with interest.  
A gust of wind hit the small team, and although it didn't seem to bother Poimarr, it was apparent that it shook Spock to the core. He couldn't help but think about how warm Jim always was, and wished to move closer to him. In order to share necessary body heat.  
‘What does the green man say?’ Poimarr asked, looking back.  
Jim laughed at her remark, and felt a familiar twang in his heart seeing the Vulcan’s green nose. When he had calmed, he handed the translator to Spock. When their hands brushed, Spock felt such a shock he dropped the translator.  
There was a high pitched beep from the translator that made Poimarr put her hands over her ears, then a noise of the translator shutting down… then silence.  
“You better be joking.” Sulu said, breaking the shocked silence.  
Spock picked up the device and switched it off, then back on. There was a sigh of relief from both Jim and Sulu as Spock spoke to Poimarr.  
‘My apologies. What I was saying earlier was that I believed I understood your word prime before-me. I need to… meditate for some time now.’ Spock slid the translator over to Jim, careful not to touch his hand.  
Jim looked up at him with worry, but only watched him walk away. Jim had grown to know over time that sometimes Spock just needed space.  
Spock did everything he could to keep his breath under control.

It was two days later, and they had just entered the beginning of the desert hemisphere. Jim would stay with Poimarr as Sulu and Spock surveyed the surrounding streets. It did not help that the group had no idea what the possible attackers would look like, and that left Jim on edge. Believe it or not, Jim had grown attached to the odd dog princess, which added extra pressure on top of the whole ‘if we fuck this up our communications with the primary species of this planet will be even more fucked up” situation. 

“Please tell me the coast is clear,” Jim said, checking all around him and Poimarr while keeping a brisk pace.  
“Left perimeter appears safe, captain,” Spock said, his voice cool in Jim's earpiece.  
He had grown cold to Jim since their first night at camp, which made Jim's heart twinge.  
“The right looks… alright I guess. I don't like not knowing who we are looking for.” Sulu said. “We really won't know who to look for until it's too late.”  
The last sentence sent a shock down Jim's spine, but he kept quiet. Being worried would only scare Poimarr.  
_What would Spock do?_ Jim thought to himself. Jim took several deep breaths in succession, trying to clear his mind, and at the end of his last one, he almost yelped at the noise from his earpiece.  
“CAPTAIN! YOUR RIGHT!” Sulu barked, then his communication was cut off.  
Jim barely had time to turn his head before he was tackled.

Spock, at the second of Sulu’s shout, had already started running. Sprinting through the crowded streets of a foreign city. Everything felt slow, too slow, hearing Jim yell in pain in his ear. Every muscle was harmoniously focused on one destination: Jim.  
There was a clearing of the crowd where Jim was, Poimarr cowered in fear behind an abandoned fruit stand while Jim was being attacked by three Tch-machs, all over 8 feet standing on their hind legs. Jim was bleeding profusely from his right shoulder, a perfectly shaped bite mark.  
Spock knew his orders. He was to take Poimarr and hide her.  
His orders are what he didn't do. There was no calculation in Spock’s mind watching Jim be bitten again and again, the _monsters_ taking chunks of his skin. There was no statistics smelling the blood spilling on the sidestreet. There were no orders when Jim cried out, “Spock!”  
The Tch-machs turned and leered at Spock giving Jim an opportunity to punch one of them in the gut.  
The largest Tch-mach pulled back from Jim and ran on all fours to Spock.  
Spock raised his hand, and with surprising precision, slammed his fist down onto the attacker's head. He yelped and whined, before growling and trying again to pounce on Spock.  
Spock fought off each attack, a blind rage in his eyes. His teeth ground against each other. The Tch-mach got two deep bites on Spock, but he felt no pain. He was not deterred. He could still hear Jim grunting and yelling.  
Finally, Spock knocked the Tch-mach out, a last whine escaping the muzzle as blood seeped from it's nose.  
Spock whipped around and leapt after the two left still attacking a weakening Jim. One gleefully ripped a part of Jim’s forearm out, and spit it back out onto Jim. A mix of horror and pain was shown on Jim’s face, as he cried out in agony. Seeing the captain, his captain in such a state, Spock felt a heat within himself like no other.

_‘Vulcans do not allow themselves to be distracted by such emotions.’ Surak had reprimanded him as a child, after he had gotten into a fight with the other children._  
‘Anger, fear, pain…’ Surak drifted off.  
Spock simply nodded, and his father deemed that sufficient. 

Spock grabbed the two Tch-machs by their ears, whipping their heads back and then forward making their skulls let out a gut-wrenching _craaack_ as they collided.  
The larger Tch-mach was conscious again, and came behind Spock, biting deeply into his shoulder. Spock grabbed the head and wrenched it forward. There was a large spurt of blood from himself. Spock felt grateful that Jim wasn't coherent enough to see what Spock did next. Spock stepped his foot back on top of the Tch-mach’s foot, and wrenched the head off completely.  
When it was over, Spock pulled Jim into his lap, ingoring the imense amount of blood on him from the Tch-mach. The captain was almost unconscious and unresponsive. Sulu ran over, his head bleeding profusely.  
“The princess?” He asked, his own face pale and full of worry.  
Poimarr showed herself, and Sulu attempted to comfort her while contacting the ship.  
“Med bay.” Sulu said simply and darkly.  
“Shit. Jim?” Scotty was heard replying.  
“Yeah. It's bad.”  
As Sulu turned to Poimarr, Spock refocused on his captain.  
Jim tried to shift his body but winced, lolling his head back and forth in Spock’s lap. With his fingertips brushing Jim's cheeks, even with is shields up, Spock could feel Jim's pain. A fire in his stomach and his shoulder, his arms felt off and breathing was terrible. His thoughts came in short bursts of input. Weak, nauseous, pain, broken, leg, shoulder, fire, light, dizzy, Spock, Poimarr, Spock, SHOULDER, Spock, sick, blood.  
“T’hy’la,” Spock breathed.  
The word came out of him without prior thought or intention, just like every emotion Jim made him feel.  
Guilt, for having arrived so slowly to help Jim.  
Fear, for Jim's excessive blood loss and tissue damage.  
Anger, still hot and burning for the Tch-machs that lay dead in the street a few feet away.  
And another feeling, the feeling that had always been there. The feeling that made Jim t’hy’la.  
“You will be safe Jim. I will take care of you.” No other words came to Spock’s mind, as he leaned down.  
He left one kiss on Jim's forehead. 

Finally after two beats, Spock could focus again. He ordered Sulu back to help stop the bleeding as Poimarr watched, howling lightly, already mourning the captain. A street vendor had fearfully brought over her various woven robes, which Spock took gratefully. Once Jim was bandaged, Sulu made a motion over to Spock with a shawl. He pulled back in surprise.  
“Spock. You're injured. Shoulder.”  
Spock had forgotten. He allowed Sulu to bandage him up as best he could, and in turn proceeded to wrap Sulu’s head.  
‘Spock.’ Poimarr said quietly, unlike her usual self.  
‘What.’ Spock said, returning to holding a motionless Jim.  
‘Is Jim going to be okay?’  
Spock bit his tongue, fighting back stinging tears at his eyes. He brushed his thumb across Jim's cheek, wiping dried blood off.  
‘I don't know.’

“Jim? Jim. Wake up kid.” Bones said.  
Spock watched intently, sitting on Jim's opposite side. He himself was in a med bay robe, having got out of bed to see Jim when he woke up.  
When Jim finally came to, he did so with a groan.  
“Ough. How is it looking Bones?”  
Bones took a deep breath through his nose before he responded. Spock sat with his hands folded in his lap, even though every part of him told him to reach up and hold Jim's hand.  
“-You in your state wouldn't let me fix that scar on your shoulder though.”  
Jim smiled widely.  
“Yeah, that sounds like me.”  
He turned to look at Spock. His voice was softer and warmer.  
“How are you?”  
His bright blue eyes met Spock’s, and it sent a shock down Spock’s spine. He couldn't stop thinking about what he had said on the planet. What it had meant.  
Spock felt a mix of relief and disappointment knowing Jim had no memory of what Spock had said.   
“I am satisfactory.”  
“Did the Tch-machs get you too?”  
Spock dropped the shoulder of his robe to show Jim.  
“We match,” Jim breathed, reaching up his hand like he were to brush it against the bumps on Spock’s skin.  
Spock couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the sheer amount of love in his voice when he replied.  
“Yes Jim, we do.”


	6. +1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock gets a lil tipsy and gives Jim a good idea, and all of this leads us to one happy ending!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE ITS BEEN ANOTHER HECTIC WEEK IN MY LIFE and I feel like last chapter was kinda weak and that I let y'all down so I really hope that this chapter is okay :-0
> 
> Pls enjoy our kids confessing their love and I will see you at the end of the chapter!!

Jim’s smile. His laugh. His loyalty. Bravery. Kindness.  
To put it simply: Jim’s everything.  
To explain everything Spock loved about Jim would take days, charts, stories, and even then Spock would not feel as if he explained it sufficiently.  
Spock kept it to himself, the feeling like an itch in the back of his throat. He would almost cough it out every day. The way Jim sang and danced in their bathroom. Jim showing Spock he cared. The brilliance thrumming inside of Jim just under his skin. 

 

Spock had an idea. He had seen it in an old Earth movie. Being under the influence of alcohol would create a situation where it was acceptable to state things aloud that they usually would not, without fear of full repercussions that would typically happen if the protagonist were to be sober.  
This idea was not terribly sound, as he had not put in previous research into how much he would need to consume, but patience lost Spock when it came to Jim. The decision not to complete any prior research was unfortunate, as it lead Spock very astray.

Jim had been invited to Spock’s quarters for chess one night, which was normal. Spock brought up that he was given alcohol from Bones, which wasn't normal. Spock invited Jim to share the bottle with him, which was even less normal.   
There was definitely something off with Spock, Jim could almost say the first officer looked nervous. _Cute,_ Jim couldn’t help but think, as he watched Spock pour two glasses for them.   
Their chess game started normally, Spock almost automatically gaining the upper hand. As the game progressed and their glasses emptied however, his face was screwed into one of intense concentration for a game he typically dominated with ease. Their usual small talk was slurred, until it was dropped completely, from both men who were very much inebriated attempting to focus. Kirk watched Spock carefully, because even in his hazy stupor he was aware of how rare the sight in front of him was. Spock was much more expressive drunk. He ran his hands over his face roughly, and scrunched his nose up. Drink made green creep up in his cheeks, nose, and ears, which made Kirk’s thoughts wander off to places other than their chess table.   
Jim shook his head suddenly, and tried to bring himself back. He noticed Spock was looking down at his hands.  
“Spah?” Jim asked, his tongue feeling thick.  
“I find… myself aaah, compromised.” The words were still well-formed, but mumbled. The ‘aaah’ made Jim raise his eyebrows.  
“Do you wan’ talk about it?”  
“No, nirsh, nnn.” Spock waved a hand and said, his voice trailing off as he set his head in his hands.  
The longer the silence lasted, the more concerned Jim got, looking at Spock’s bent form. He wanted to reach out to him, hell he always did, but especially now, the alarming amount of vulnerability thundering from the Vulcan. Jim wanted to touch his shoulder. The one that matched his own. To pull his chin up gently and look into his eyes, brush a thumb across his cheek like he had always wanted to. To kiss his lips, just like he always wanted to. To comfort, to hold and be held, by Spock and only Spock. Jim felt helpless, fearful that if he acted on these emotions or even attempted to comfort him it would only make Spock withdraw.   
That’s what stopped Jim from doing anything at all.

Finally, Spock spoke. “It is… illogical, Jim, but…I feel...”  
Jim held his breath. Spock speaking about his feelings, _unprompted,_ was unheard of.  
“I feel sorrow. It is inescapable. I miss Vulcan.”  
Jim could feel his eyes widen, but tried to keep a blank face, trying to nod sympathetically. His whole body felt rigid.  
“Missing my ko-mekh…. mother… is a natural instinct. I allow myself to indulge into that emotion temporarily in private because it is not completely baseless. But I find myself missing aspects of the terrain of my planet as well. I haven’t admitted this before but… Vulcan schooling was hard for me. As well as my failing attempts to control my stress and anger.” Spock pulled himself up so he was sitting in his usual sober manner, rigid back and all, but he was swaying slightly, staring into the distance. Jim could see how badly Spock’s eyes were glistening, and he felt his throat tighten.  
“To calm myself… I would step outside and inspect the stars at night. Memorizing their patterns would distract my mind, and they were…” His lips curled up into an almost smile. “Pretty.” The smile fell, and Jim knew Spock was about to cry. He blinked repeatedly, and looked up at the ceiling.  
Jim was dumbstruck, overwhelmed thinking about the sheer amount of trust Spock was putting in him. He wondered if Spock had told anyone else what he was telling him now.  
“It is illogical, as we are surrounded by stars wherever we go.” Spock said after a pause, finding his resolve. Jim could physically see Spock’s walls raise back up, as a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye fell.  
Jim finally found his voice.  
“No, Spock it makes sense.”   
Spock looked him dead in the eye, for what was probably the first time of the night.  
“Your judgement is impaired Jim.”  
Jim shook his head. “Nno, no I get ih’. Your constellations won’ look the same unless it is looked at from the same exact spot Vulcan was. Ih’was still a loss. Don’ feel bad for feeling sad.”  
The walls didn’t collapse, but Jim could tell they softened.  
“What else d’you miss?” Jim asked quietly, half expecting only silence in return.  
“The spices. The way they made my home smell more than anything.”  
Once Spock started talking, he found it difficult to stop. Yet another trait Jim pulled out of him.

The plan was a disaster. Spock was hungover, embarrassed, and painfully aware that his confession plan had failed. He could vaguely remember Jim standing to offer Spock a hug, normal for a friend to offer physical comfort, and he could vaguely remember accepting that hug. It produced a warm feeling, one that lasted longer than expected and made his chest feel light whenever he saw Jim on the bridge. Jim’s left hand on his back, the other on the nape of his neck, fingertips just brushing Spock’s hair. An overwhelming sense of safety.  
Jim did not bring up the events of that night, to the point where Spock questioned if Jim even remembered it. They also temporarily stopped playing chess at night, as whenever Spock asked Jim, he would break eye contact and say he was busy.  
Watching Jim walk away always hurt. Guilt crept into Spock, into his fingers and along his spine, down to his stomach. He should have known better than to have let it get that far. He eventually gave up on asking Jim if he wanted to play chess.

A two weeks and three days had passed.  
“Hey Spock?” Jim asked. He was sitting in the captain’s chair, fingers tapping the armrests.  
“Yes captain?” Spock replied, ignoring Jim’s faint wince.  
“Are you free for chess tonight? Your room? I’ll bring over the set.” The tentative edge to his voice was uncharacteristic for when he was sitting in the captain’s chair.  
“...I accept.”  
A fast exhale. “Alright. 21:00?”  
“Affirmative.”

Jim had left the bridge early that night, claiming a headache. He reassured Spock that he should be better by 21:00, and even if he wasn’t, he would attend anyway.  
Spock inclined his head, and thought nothing more of it, attempting to channel all of his brainpower on his work. 

First, it was Uhura who stopped Spock to talk. It was nearing 21:00, and Spock was on his way to his room, hoping to beat Jim there so he could mentally prepare himself for alone time with him. It was small talk, and Spock stood it for as long as he could before he excused himself as politely as possible.  
Then, Sulu pulled him into the botany lab, under the guise of showing him the new plant they had picked up on their last mission. It was indeed aesthetically pleasing, but nothing for Sulu to call Spock in for. It was now past 21:00.  
Next, Bones called for Spock to help up Chekov, who had fainted for no apparent in the hall in front of Spock’s room. Bones reassured Spock that he was fine, but Spock helped carry the ensign back to med bay anyway, and once more made his way to his room.  
Finally, it was Scotty who attempted to speak to Spock, but before he could get any more than a ‘Hello’ out, Spock held up a hand.  
“I must apologize, Commander Scott. I have a previous engagement that I am late for.”  
Scotty looked crestfallen, and watched as Spock moved past him.  
Scotty spoke softly into his communicator, in case Spock was still within hearing distance.  
“Spock coming your way, captain.”

As Spock had expected, Jim was waiting for him in his quarters. Oddly, there was no chess set. Jim looked very pale, and kept wringing his hands as Spock inspected his room.  
“Okay, so I fibbed a bit,” Jim said when Spock finally looked back at him.  
“What are you implying?”  
Jim shifted from foot to foot.  
“I don’t wanna play chess tonight Spock.”  
Apprehension gripped Spock right in his side.  
“I made a surprise from you instead. Do you uh- trust me?”  
There was apprehension in Jim’s eyes, and that somehow set Spock at ease.  
“I always have, Jim.”  
Jim let out a huff of breath and smiled, his lips twitching slightly.  
“Alright. So part one, I need you to close your eyes. And when I tell you to breathe in, breathe in through your nose. You got it?”  
Spock raised an eyebrow, but listened anyway. He shut his eyes. He listened to the rustle of Jim pulling something from his pocket. Something unfolding.  
“Hold your breath for a sec. It might make this better.”  
He did.  
He could sense Jim’s hand less than an inch from his nose.  
“Okay. Breathe in.”  
The assault on Spock’s nose was both overwhelming and not enough. He kept his eyes shut, but every fiber in his being felt like it came alive. Whatever Jim was holding smelled, no, reeked of Vulcan spices, each discernible as Spock listed them off mentally. He kept inhaling for as long as he could, then took another breath, then another, before finally opening his eyes.  
Jim was looking at him with such wonder in his eyes it almost startled him, before he focused on what Jim was holding.  
It was a rock, red and porous. It was-  
“A piece of Vulcan. A rock off it’s surface I mean.” Jim said, holding it out for Spock to take.  
Spock held it gingerly, a finger tracing a line across it.  
“How?” Spock asked, marveling at the piece, which was still warm from being in Jim’s pocket.  
“I uh, I kinda contacted your father.”  
Spock shot his eyes up at Jim.  
“No, no don’t worry I didn’t tell him why I just said you would appreciate it for scientific purposes, as well as some Vulcan spices if he could spare any. I didn’t even know if he would send the ones you had in your house, but I used them anyway. The bigger holes in the rock I stuffed the spices down, that way you always have a piece of home. I was going to make it into a necklace but I didn’t know how you would feel about it being… drilled into…” Jim was nervously rambling, before he finally forced himself to stop. “Are they the right spices?”  
Spock took another inhale before responding.   
“They are the exact same. You didn’t miss any of them.” It dawned on him that his father must have done that on purpose. He felt himself choking on his own words as he tore his eyes from the piece of his home to look at Jim.  
“I cannot possibly express the extent of my gratitude, Jim.” He wanted to keep from tearing up. He did that much too often around Jim.  
“Don’t thank me just yet. Lie down on your bed.”  
Spock couldn’t help the blush suddenly scalding his cheeks.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Just do it okay?”  
Spock took a deep breath, and set the piece of Vulcan on his bedside table before lying down. Jim swiftly lied down next to him, and the two men stayed there for a moment, shoulder to shoulder.  
Finally, Jim said “Computer, shut lights off.”  
It took a moment for Spock’s eyes to adjust, but when they did he gasped quietly under his breath.

The entirety of Spock’s ceiling was covered with stars, small green stars. But not randomly scattered, they were somehow in almost perfect ratio with how the constellations on Vulcan were from Spock’s childhood home.  
“I had to have Spock Prime help me with this one. It took a lot of effort on his half but I hope it paid off and it is as accurate as possible,” Jim whispered, speaking nervously and quickly still.  
Spock was absolutely speechless. If his mind were truly a machine, it would have needed a reboot at this moment. Tears started coming up in his eyes. He felt warm all over, a ghost of the same wonderful warm feeling he had as a child looking at the real stars.  
“Jim…”  
He could feel himself shaking as he couldn’t take his eyes away.  
“They’re glow stars. I had some packed for some reason that I had forgotten about. I had glow stars growing up. They used to make me sad because they made me think of my dad. Probably why I forgot about them.” He paused thoughtfully. “But I really like them here, with you.” Jim’s voice was soft and broken slightly.  
“Thank you.” Spock said, trying but failing to choke back a sob.  
Jim immediately turned on his side and set a tentative hand on Spock’s shoulder.  
“Shit, I’m so sorry Spock. I didn’t think it would make you sad. Shit I just wanted to make you happy, I am so so sorry,” Jim hurriedly said.  
Spock turned to face Jim as well and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in close. Jim did exactly what he had done last time, one hand on his back, the other on his neck. A rush of cool shock set itself through Jim’s body at the unexpected contact.  
“Despite… despite however it may seem, Jim, I am sufficiently happy. I am beyond the typical parameters of happiness at the moment.” Spock said between soft hiccups, voice muffled by Jim’s shoulder.  
Spock pulled back to look at Jim in the near darkness.  
“You brought back a part of my home I had thought I had lost forever. Lesek. Thank you. Thank you. Oh, thank you T’h-” He froze.  
Jim searched Spock’s face as well as he could with the limited light.  
Spock bit his tongue, but then made the best decision of his life, devoid of logic.

“T’hy’la. Jim.”  
There was a shift in the air, as Spock pulled Jim in close again. Fear gripped his stomach as he waited for Jim’s response. He buried his head in the curve of Jim’s shoulder.  
“What does T’hy’la mean?” Jim asked, his tongue unused to the word. As if he could feel Spock’s anxiety, he started running his hand through Spock’s hair. His voice was so close to Spock’s ear.  
“Friend.” Spock said, setting a discreet kiss on Jim’s shoulder.  
“Brother.” Spock said with a shaky breath, pulling away once more from Jim’s shoulder to be face to face with Jim. His captain. Friend. Brother. His “...soulmate.” Spock said finally.   
“I love you, Jim.” He found Jim’s hand in the dark, and held it with his own.  
He could feel the river of Jim’s emotions. Disbelief, confusion, joy. Joy was the brightest, largest, most prominent emotion. It almost radiated off of Jim.  
“Spock, I’ll be damned.”  
Seconds felt like hours.  
“I love you so goddamn much Spock.”  
Adoration burst forward from Jim, happiness, attraction, and absolute adoration. The input was overwhelming to Spock, as he took it all in as much as he could.  
Jim reached up a hand, and brushed his thumb across Spock’s cheek, wiping a tear that had rolled down.   
Softer, much softer this time. “I love you.”  
Jim leaned in. Spock leaned forward as well.   
Their first kiss was chaste, but felt like the lighting of a sparkler.   
Their second kiss was a Vulcan one, as Jim reached to hold Spock’s hand. Spock guided their fingers to the correct placement.  
Their third kiss was Jim kissing Spock’s forehead, an unconstrained smile on his lips.   
There was no measurement for how long they stayed together like that, tangled up with each other in the dark under a faux Vulcan sky. Kissing melted to talking, and talking melted to kissing once more, creating a slow and luxurious cycle.

For the first few weeks of their new relationship, neither of them got much sleep. There were new places to explore between themselves, each exposing themselves to the other like a raw nerve, trusting the other not to hurt it.  
When they had decided to tell the crew, they all took it well, likely because it wasn’t all that surprising to them. Bones owed Scotty $25, because he had of course bet against Scotty that Kirk would have been the one to confess his emotions first. 

From that first night on, each morning Spock got to wake up next to Jim, infinitely grateful for his lapse in logic and for the stars above his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to those who make it all the way to the end... THANK YOU! I'm not much of a writer but I did put a lot of thought into this and I appreciate you taking time from your day to read this!! I hope I did well enough!!  
> If you wanna contact me I am on tumblr im @starvky (well that's my star trek sideblog at least...)  
> I dunno if I will write anything else but if I do you all will be the first ones to know!  
> Again, thank you so much kiddos. live long and all that jazz, yeah?

**Author's Note:**

> where will the next chapter takes us? who knows!! I sure don't...


End file.
